Oh dear

Jesus, I can be harsh. That previous post was perhaps a little too honest or unconsidered. Still, guess I was venting.

Hmmm. Father's funeral. The night before, I was with all my siblings, their partners and children for the first time in about a year. And it was the first time we'd all stayed in one place for almost 20 years. Surprisingly, given our rocky relationships, there were no fights. Nor the day of the funeral or the day after. Weird. But nice.

His funeral was nice enough as funerals go. It was hard to see my youngest siblings desperately sad. It was good to see some people I haven't since seen my childhood - pity about the circumstance. It was touching to see some people connected with where I used to work - and which he was involved with a few years back - attend and bring flowers, though it was several hours away from where they're based.

He was a Vietnam veteran and was spoken about as a hero, all-round good bloke and how he'll be sadly missed. I'm having trouble reconciling the 'hero/nice guy' stuff with the reality of my violent, prolonged nightmare of a childhood. I'll get there.